Never What They Seem
by Jemmiah
Summary: What happens when the one you love unexpectedly turns upon you?
1. Never What They Seem

**Never What They Seem**

**By Jemmiah**

* * *

"He hit me."

She said it in a tone of voice that suggested total disbelief, as if the idea was beyond comprehension. Trembling hands vainly attempted to hide away the dark, ugly bruise that ran from eye socket to cheekbone, puffed up and angry from the force of the blow that struck her. Sat against the wall of the spare room, cowering like a scared Nerf, Jemmiah had pulled her legs up close to her chest as if to make herself as small and as unnoticeable as possible. All she wanted at that moment was to vanish from sight. She'd even contemplated hiding herself in the wardrobe except that on reflection she didn't feel there was a space small enough or dark enough that would do justice to her misery.

Obi-Wan had found her, of course. She'd never really doubted that he would.

He'd sat himself down beside her wearing an expression she could only have described as 'deeply troubled'. It wasn't so much the oft-worn frown, or the thin set of his lips that betrayed his own feelings, but the bleak look in his eyes. There was none of the usual amusement or glee to be found within that unwavering, cool blue gaze. The cream-clad arm swathed in a loose-fitting Jedi sleeve snaked itself around her shoulder in a show of brotherly support but Jemmy found herself too preoccupied to notice much.

"I don't understand…" She swallowed, feeling her stomach tightening further into a hardened knot. "What did I do? Why did he do it?"

"You didn't do anything." Obi-Wan tightened his grip upon her shoulder. "You must believe that."

"But…he _hit_ me." If anything the voice became even more incredulous. "I…I was trying to help him and then he…he just…" Jemmy closed her good eye tightly shut, as if trying to eradicate the memory by squeezing it away.

Obi-Wan nodded. "You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. He's sick, Jemmy. The fever made him behave violently. That wasn't the Qui-Gon we both know and admire. His actions," he said with some uncertainty, "were not those of a man in charge of his mind. The illness made him strike out at random. You were unfortunate."

But Jemmiah was adamant, her voice wavering yet defiant. She could recollect every move and twitch that Qui-Gon had made, playing the moment over and over in her head: the way he had struck out at the attendant healers, throwing Gethin to one side as if of no consequence…and how he had struggled against them as they had fought to apply the restraints on his arms. Maybe it had been stupid of her to think she could achieve what they could not. Perhaps it had been arrogance to assume that Qui-Gon would listen to her but she had been afraid that they would hurt him and had acted only out of love…

"He looked at me!" She growled back at Obi-Wan. "I pleaded with him to calm down…and then he stopped dead. He stared straight at me!" Her hand automatically went back up to her eye, remembering what had occurred next. "His eyes were so…full of hate! I've never seen him look so angry before. But he knew…he _knew_ what he was doing. He smiled at me before he…" Jemmiah swung out her arm in a motion that replicated precisely what Qui-Gon had done. "I was trying to _help!_"

"Jemmy…" Obi-Wan began to say, only to be cut dead.

"Don't tell me he didn't mean it." Her voice became impossibly low, the bitterness causing Obi-Wan to wince. "What about all the things he said? Things that were spoken on purpose to hurt you! He knew exactly what would upset you!"

And they _had_ upset him, even if he was unwilling to admit it. His master's words had filled him with a resurgent dread he'd long considered banished from his heart.

_'You're a failure…a disgrace to the Jedi.'_

Obi-Wan allowed his chin to droop in defeat towards his chest.

"I just don't understand…" Jemmiah's disbelief gained strength with every passing second. "Does he hate me? What have I done to make him so mad? I know I misbehave sometimes but I never thought…I didn't expect…"

"He doesn't hate you." Obi-Wan hugged the eleven-year-old towards him. "No more than he meant those things he said to me." He paused, leaving the unspoken _'I hope'_ to die unsaid upon his lips. He was no more certain of anything than Jemmy had been, but whilst the cruel words had cut deeper than he would publicly acknowledge he would only allow himself to think of Jemmiah at that moment.

_'What made you think that you could be anything special? You have betrayed me.'_

The padawan swallowed back his unhappiness.

"I'm used to being hit." She ventured after a moment of silence had elapsed. "I just never expected Quiggy to raise a hand to me. I love him, Ben…"

"That's why it hurts so much." Obi-Wan nodded slowly. He felt a shudder travel the length of her small body and allowed her to rest her head against his shoulder. "You're shaking. Why don't I make you something hot to drink? Then we can get that face of yours taken care of…"

Jemmiah froze rigidly against him.

"Qui-Gon is sedated now." He peered cautiously into her face. "He won't hurt you."

"I used to think that." She replied, her lip wobbling fractionally. "I'm not sure I'll ever think it again."

Obi-Wan tried vainly to reason with her.

"Even if he did mean to strike you…even if he meant to say those things to me, they were said because the sickness had a hold of his mind. You must see this. A rational Qui-Gon would never have done this. You cannot spend your time hiding in the shadows of your room whilst Evla is away. That eye of yours looks painful and should really receive treatment!"

"No!" She indignantly folded her thin little arms. "I'm not going back to the infirmary. Not now, not ever! Not whilst he's there! Just because he's asleep now doesn't mean he won't be mad when he wakes up! I'm _scared_ of him." Jemmy admitted, digging her fingers into the pile of the carpet. "I want to go back to Evla's place."

"She's not here." Protested Obi-Wan. "She won't be back for two days."

"I don't care! I don't feel safe here anymore…I want to go home!"

Obi-Wan blew out a deep breath. Evla was away; Qui-Gon was in the infirmary until he recovered, whenever that might be. That put him in charge of Jemmiah until somebody was in a position to take over. He could understand her feelings of despair and betrayal but these were things that a Jedi had to face, and that she too in time would have to confront. Running away from the pain would achieve little.

"If you won't go to the infirmary," Obi-Wan suggested kindly, "perhaps you'll allow one of the healers to come here and attend you? Would that be acceptable?"

The Corellian child squinted up at him through her three-quarters closed eye, reminding herself that Obi-Wan was on her side. He had suffered Qui-Gon's wrath the same as she had: the calculatingly painful words as vicious as any blow to the head might have proved. Did he never suffer any doubts, she wondered? Did he never question what Qui-Gon really thought of them? Was he so convinced in his heart that the master would never turn on them again?

"Okay." She ventured doubtfully. "It does hurt, I guess."

Jemmiah watched as he got to his feet.

"What if he _did_ mean what he said?" She asked, begging for reassurance. "What happens if his sickness made him say things that he's been thinking deep down for some time?"

Obi-Wan bowed his head, allowing his master's words to permeate his thoughts.

_'I should never have taken you as my padawan…you are unworthy of my training. I don't trust you…I don't trust any of you!' _

He didn't have an answer for Jemmiah. There was simply none to give.

"I'll make that drink for you." Obi-Wan said over his shoulder, not wanting to dwell on the fears that Jemmy had voiced, or remind himself of the evidence his master's attack had left so violently imprinted on his friend's face.

As Qui-Gon was so fond of saying, things were never what they seemed. But whatever the truth Obi-Wan knew that for all his incredible loyalty he, like Jemmiah, would have a very hard time in sitting beside his master's infirmary bed and forgetting all that had been said and done.

Perhaps he _was_ unworthy, after all.


	2. A Second Chance

**A Second Chance**

**By Jemmiah**

****

"Why come here every day, hmmm?" Yoda asked, his stick tapping against the ground as he walked. "To hide?"

Jemmiah regarded the lively green eyes and expressive, wrinkled face for a moment. She didn't have to answer Yoda: she realised that he already knew the truth. If there was one being in the galaxy to whom lying was utterly pointless then it was he: the Jedi temple's most revered and long-lived master. He saw her heart and could quite probably read her thoughts if he had a mind to do so.

Well, her heart was heavy enough as it was, and as for what she was thinking…

"Hiding; nothing it achieves." Yoda continued, this time allowing some determination to colour his words. "Find peace here you will not. Confront your fears you must, if move on you wish!" He lowered his voice fractionally, sympathetic to her concerns. "Frightened you are. Of what Master Qui-Gon has done. Of what he might do still…"

Jemmiah nodded slowly. She'd be sitting by the ornamental fish pool for some hours, staring at the ripples on the water's surface and the glorious red and silver coloured fish that broke the surface every so often, feeling comforted and soothed by the simplicity of her surroundings. Columns supported the large ceiling, creating a shady and peaceful sanctuary enhanced by the gentle sound of running water from a nearby fountain. Sometimes Jemmy envied the fish: they had such a tranquil life. Dull and boring perhaps; but safe from those who might do them harm. In the end, that was all that Jemmiah wanted in life.

And to be loved.

She'd never really given the thought much credence before. The few people she had cared for invariably disappeared from her life, usually in unpleasant and brutal circumstances; but then Qui-Gon and his padawan had come along and turned everything on its head. As a child the idea of loving someone was almost scornful: now it seemed important…vital even. Without love there was nothing, only emptiness. Jemmiah did not want to go back to that way of life again.

Then Qui-Gon had ruined it all when he had struck her.

It had surprised her how angry she'd felt. Deep down she felt sure that he hadn't meant what he'd said and done and, just as An-Paj had been quick to reassure her, that his actions were purely down to the fever from which he had suffered. Yet his words of cold disdain for Obi-Wan had made her blood boil. The bruise on her own face was gradually beginning to fade, like her own fury, but still it lingered by way of a reminder of what he had done. It felt like a betrayal of her love for him; that he had chosen to cast her to one side with a swat of a hand like she was some annoying insect.

Maybe…maybe deep down he didn't love her. Jedi weren't supposed to love, after all. _But she_ had loved _him_. The thought of an unfeeling, uncaring Qui-Gon tugged inside at Jemmiah's chest until she thought her heart might break.

"Listen to him, you should." Yoda prompted when Jemmiah did not reply. "Hear him you must. For your own peace of mind, as well as his. Regret what happened he surely does. Know my former padawan well, I do."

"But what if…" Jemmy began uncertainly, not wishing to cast aspersions upon someone who had a better understanding of Qui-Gon's character than she herself had. "I don't know if I can trust him anymore."

"Then trust your _own_ feelings you must." Yoda replied sagely, shuffling round so that he could see her better. "Trust the will of the force. Listen to what the force demands of you."

"I don't have the force." Jemmiah shook her head, utterly confused. "I can't hear what it's telling me!"

"Nonetheless, understand it you will when the moment arrives." Came back the cryptic reply. "And know how to act. A second chance you were given at the temple, when those who sought to send you away backed down. Understand you they did not! But in time, come they have to see their mistake. Fought for you Master Qui-Gon always has. Like you, a second chance he deserves. Doubts you may have, but none greater than those he has of himself. "

Jemmiah closed her eyes. She wanted to believe that what Yoda said was true. If it wasn't for Qui-Gon she would be dead…or still a slave. Maybe she would be in a children's home suffering the same kind of abuse she'd received on Nargotria on a daily basis. Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and the Jedi who had taken her in had secured her immediate future. The least she owed Qui-Gon was a chance to explain…

But she was still afraid: scared of what he could do. He hadn't used the force to strike out at her, but Jedi were not meant to attack the defenceless. Was there darkness inside Qui-Gon waiting its chance to creep to the surface once again? He might not have meant to hurt her: he might be truly mortified at the thought just as Yoda had suggested, but the capability to cause her harm was still there.

It was in every one of the Jedi. Their powers and abilities gave them superiority over her, a non-force user. In many ways it was like sitting on a time bomb. Perhaps one day someone might go mad and attack her again. And then what could she do?

"I guess I'm scared that deep down he doesn't want me anymore." Jemmy shivered, hugging her arms to her body. "He's been the one who has always looked over me. I don't want him to push me away."

Yoda gave an odd sounding, musical little chuckle.

"If you want something to happen, believe in it you must. Or fail it will. Revealed the true nature of the problem is." He pointed a gnarled, green finger towards Jemmiah. "With Qui-Gon, lie it does not…but rather with you. Your own doubts, like those of his padawan, at the root of this problem they are. So uncertain of your own worth you are, that doubt those who see something special in you, you do. Now that Qui-Gon has, in his illness, rejected you - afraid you are! Remains the solution in your hands. Speak to Qui-Gon you must! Another chance you must give him."

Yoda hoisted himself up against the marble rim of the pool and sat there, feet dangling over the edge. He didn't need the force to tell him how Jemmiah was feeling: it was written on her face. The same uncertainty had been mirrored in young Obi-Wan's eyes when he too had sought his advice. It was not up to Yoda to instruct either of them, only to offer a suggestion, for ultimately the matter lay in theirs - and Qui-Gon's - hands.

"Tell some fine stories this pool would, if talk it could." Yoda tutted, his head tilting slightly to one side as if pausing in curious reverie. "Seen many things, it has. Once there was a little initiate - a good boy he was - who felt so unsure of his abilities compared to the other younglings that try to gain their respect he did! A stone he took from the garden," Yoda's taloned fingers spread in web-like fashion across the surface of the pool, "and used it with the force to skim the water. Killed several fish he did! A mistake he made, but learned from it he did. Upset the gardeners were. Unhappy for the fish! To remove the fish from the temple they planned, as keep them safe from the unruly initiates they could not. But eventually relent they did and so remain the fish you admire."

"But the initiate didn't mean to kill the fish." Jemmy frowned. "It was a mistake. He used his powers without realising that he'd cause any harm…"

Yoda raised a single green eyebrow.

"Yes, I get what you're saying." The Corellian's expression turned sulky. "It's the same for Qui-Gon, too."

The little being smiled benignly. "Understand each other we do. Old this pool is, young imp! Many years before the initiate cast his stone across the water, another initiate there was who drained the water from the pool. Young he was, and foolish. Know about fish and water he did not! Killed all the fish in the pool he did. Many years of penance he paid for his mistake! Regret his actions to this day he does."

"You sound as if you're speaking from experience." Jemmy looked at Yoda squarely. "I suppose you're going to tell me it was Qui-Gon so that you can show me what a normal, naughty child he was."

Yoda's ears drooped fractionally. "Embarrassed to admit that me it was."

"You?" Exclaimed Jemmy. "But you don't make mistakes!"

"Faultless the Jedi are not. Many my flaws are, and varied. But forgiven my mistake was. A second chance I was also given."

"I suppose you're all set to reveal that Master Dooku was an arsonist who used to start fires in the gardens." Jemmy folded her arms resolutely, but couldn't help but smile back at her companion whose good humour was proving infectious. "Or that Obi-Wan used to relieve himself in the pool when he thought nobody was looking…"

Yoda snorted. "The fish skimmer young Kenobi was. Relieve himself in the pool: Master Windu _that_ was…"

Jemmiah's grin eventually evaporated, her expression transformed once more by a pensive frown. So, Yoda was advocating that she should forgive and forget, was that it? Or at the least to allow Qui-Gon to put forward his point of view? That was all very fine and well in theory, but when it came to practice…

"As far as talking to Qui-Gon goes, I'll…I'll think about it." Jemmy swallowed, feeling the sensation of cold dread begin to slowly spiral downwards through her body. "At the moment I can't say more than that. I don't really know how I feel and I don't want to make it worse…"

_I don't want him to hurt me again. I don't want him to turn out like the others: I couldn't stand it…_

"Good this is." Yoda nodded. "Like a happy ending, I do! Trust your feelings, imp. Know you will, what to say and do when arrive the moment does."

He pushed himself back off the ledge and buckled slightly when his feet made contact once more with the ground, picking up his stick and hobbling a few paces away towards the direction of the temple gardens.

"Perhaps arrived the moment already has." He nodded over his shoulder before continuing on his way.

Puzzled, Jemmy turned her head to where Yoda had last looked.

There she saw the large, unmistakable figure of Qui-Gon Jinn standing by the far end of the pool, clearly waiting in the hope of catching a word with her. Jemmiah automatically froze. There was a tiny, distant part of her mind that felt angry he had dared to invade one of her favourite areas in the temple: a place he_ knew _she visited when in need of peace and solitude. Her throat feeling inexplicably dry, Jemmy stood momentarily as if rooted to the spot, watching the master take a few, hesitant steps towards her. No longer holding the same delights that they had before the Corellian turned her back on her beloved fish and began to walk away from Qui-Gon, fear fuelling the need to run and hide.

Somehow she sensed that he had stopped, even although she was facing the other way. And, just as perplexing, Jemmy realised that she too had halted.

She was afraid of him, but it wasn't so much the fear of being hit than of no longer being loved. For years she had put up with physical attacks; punches, kicks and yet worse besides, but they had taught her only that such blows could be recovered from in time. The knot in her stomach was real, but not because she was worried that one day, like every other man she had ever known, he might raise a fist to her again but rather that he would push her aside. Because without the love and support that he and Obi-Wan had shown her Jemmiah knew that she, in abject desolation, would simply wither away inside…

Inspite of a lingering feeling of nausea, the stinging memory of his hand flat against her cheek all too fresh in her thoughts, Jemmiah slowly, unaccountably, found herself turning back round to face him.

It was his eyes that held her transfixed. Deep within the sea-blue gaze there lay a wealth of timeless knowledge and resolve: steely determination borne from years of Jedi training and dedication. Beneath the surface however there seemed to rage a battle of torn emotions; pain, hurt and a suspicion of fear warring with the overriding need for calm. Perhaps what Jemmiah could recognise most easily was the astonishing look of sheer, raw guilt and contrition. It was not something she had ever seen in any man's face until that moment. The kind of people she had known on Nargotria had never felt the compunction to apologise for their actions against her, or even shown that they had the capacity for such emotions. Each one of them had been little better than mindless, ruthless, calculating beasts with the intrinsic need to inflict pain and misery on those less fortunate just to make themselves seem more important.

And Qui-Gon was not, nor ever had been, mindless. He had shown Jemmiah that, after everything she had been through, she was capable of love. Again those silently pleading eyes fixed themselves upon her, begging her to stay and hear him out.

This time Jemmiah allowed him to walk towards him, waiting at the side of the rectangular fishpond for him to catch her up.

It was not a side to Qui-Gon's character that Jemmiah had ever seen before, but he looked strangely unsettled, almost nervous, as if afraid that whatever he chose to say would not be adequate. He stopped almost immediately before her and then, conscious that his superior height might prove intimidating, knelt down on one knee. Detachedly aware that the little scene must look exceedingly strange to any who might witness it, Jemmiah found herself staring directly into those remorseful eyes from only an arm's length in distance.

They were hopeful, Jemmiah thought, but overwhelmingly penitent. Was he, then, truly afraid that she would reject him? Did Jedi ever fear anything?

"Jemmiah," he began softly, still trying to find the right words whilst knowing there were none that would truly suffice, "I…I just wanted to tell you that I know how difficult it is for you to hear what I have to say, and I thank you for listening to me…to allow me this chance to ask you…to hope that you will somehow forgive what I…"

Qui-Gon's words were interrupted by the unexpected gift of a large, resounding hug around his chest, the surprising amount of exerted pressure constricting the breath in his lungs. He continued to kneel, baffled and astonished by the swift and unexpected turn of events, feeling Jemmiah's thin arms continue to bite in to his ribs. What had caused the incredible turn around in his fortune Qui-Gon couldn't honestly guess at, although he was never one to pass up such an opportunity or make the most of whatever good fortune the force placed in his path. Returning the hug, feeling the fragile arms relax as her circled her back with his own, Qui-Gon closed his eyes and allowed the relief to wash over him.

"What was that for?" He asked, his beard prickling her skin as he spoke.

"Because I suddenly realised," Jemmiah sighed, feeling the tension finally leaving her, "that you needed a hug just as much as I did."

It was eloquently put, thought Qui-Gon, who was not in a hurry to release Jemmiah after his hard won, seven-day task of winning her over. All that dread - the worry - that she would never bring herself to so much as look at him let alone hear him out had evaporated as effortlessly as a raindrop on Tatooine. The ability to see beyond her own pain and recognise the same feelings in someone else brought home the fact that she was rapidly growing up. Yet, like all people - of any age - Jemmiah still felt the need to be held and reassured, just as she was reassuring him.

"I am sorry." He repeated in her ear, her long, wavy hair tickling his lips as he spoke. "Please believe me when I say that."

Imperceivably Jemmiah nodded. "I know. That's why I'm hugging you." She replied.

After a further minute had passed in silence Qui-Gon finally allowed the embrace to break apart, holding her slightly away from him where he could more easily see her face.

"Thank you." He said simply. "And the answer to your next question is 'yes'. I have spoken to Obi-Wan and made my peace with him. He was also good enough to accept my apologies, although…" His voice held the slightest degree of concern, thinking back on the vaguely disheartened look on his padawan's face, the lack of self-belief that had seemingly now returned to haunt him as a result of his misplaced words, "Well, you can never tell, can you? I expect things will turn out satisfactorily in the long run."

He traced the outline of the large bruise that still lingered beneath Jemmiah's eye and cheekbone and found his heart aching at the thought that he had been responsible. The promise he had once made to her, swearing that he was different to all the other men that she had known, that he would never hurt her, had been shown up to be nothing more than a pack of lies. What must she have thought of him: her precious guardian and protector?

"You don't sound sure." Jemmy ventured cautiously, not wanting to get too involved in what was Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's business.

Qui-Gon nodded. "Obi-Wan will forgive me because he feels it is his duty as my padawan." He replied somewhat reluctantly. "But I'd rather he did so through his own wish, not through some imagined obligation. He's always been sensitive to the fact that I refused initially to take him as an apprentice. For a while he harboured self-doubts in his abilities. I'm rather afraid that I've brought these concerns to the fore once again."

"Don't worry about Ben." Jemmiah patted Qui-Gon on the arm. "I've forgiven you, and he's ten times more worthy than I am."

"And why did you forgive me?" The Jedi asked, his face once more so earnest that Jemmiah would have forgiven him just about anything if he ask it of her.

She considered for a moment. "Because you asked me to. Nobody's ever asked me to forgive them before. Nobody's ever really said sorry before for hitting me. Not that they would have meant it if they had…but when I looked into _your_ eyes I knew that you meant it. And that you'd never let it happen again."

There was more than a hint of a question to that last statement, Qui-Gon thought desolately, answering her with a further embrace. As with Obi-Wan, the trust between them had been stretched to breaking point, but at least in this instance he felt confident that it was a promise he could keep.

"I won't." Qui-Gon smiled.

Satisfied with the answer, even if she knew it was the only one that he could give her, Jemmiah turned her thoughts to the one remaining problem that stood in the way of Qui-Gon's rediscovered happiness.

"Now all you have to do is apologise to Ferdi."

"Ferdi?" Qui-Gon caught himself frowning. "Healer Xadaani? Why should I have to apologise to her?"

Jemmiah looked innocently up at him.

"Because when you had your funny turn in the infirmary you accidentally jogged her mouth with your elbow and sent two of her teeth flying." She grinned as the colour seemed to drain from Qui-Gon's face. "She's spent the last few days at Healer Inkerson's tender mercies…I think," Jemmy pondered the irony for a moment, "that she's beginning to see things from the patient's side of the bed now. And I don't think she likes it much. That and the fact that she's been trying to use the force to re-grow her teeth...it won't work of course." The Corellian shrugged. "They'll probably grow back as fangs anyway. All the better to eat the initiates with! Not to mention people who elbow healers in the mouth."

Despite his years of training Qui-Gon failed to repress a shudder at the notion of a bloodthirsty Ferdi Xadaani on his tail, and resolved never to set foot in the infirmary again. Not until the next time Obi-Wan found himself in there.

Qui-Gon placed his hand upon Jemmiah's shoulder as they started the long walk back to the living quarters in the habitation block of the temple. The week's events had given him much to ponder on. His faith in himself had been shattered and yet now, conversely, through his padawan and Jemmiah's forgiveness, he felt more confident that he could move on. If it was a test of some kind Qui-Gon wasn't sure how he had fared, except the lesson that resulted from the trial was one worth learning, no matter what it had cost at the time.

_And what have I learned? That inside me there is darkness…a bitterness that I have not let go of? That Xanatos has left his mark upon me, even although I believed it otherwise? That I am not infallible?_ He mused silently; watching the silver backed fish lazily swimming beneath the miniature lily pads. Deciding to spin the pleasant journey home for as long as he could, Qui-Gon glanced down at Jemmiah, and smiled.

_No. I have learned that I am loved. And not to take that love for granted._

They continued to walk in silence, observed only by the sleek, darting fish in the pond - and one other: a small, wizened being clad in Jedi robes, leaning thoughtfully on the end of his walking stick. His ears twitched with amusement as the mismatched pair of Qui-Gon and Jemmiah ambled past; lined, green lips pursing slyly as if at some joke known only to himself.

The will of the force was not as fickle as some would believe.

"Like a happy ending, I do." He repeated, sighing contentedly.


End file.
